


Halloween

by ununpentium



Series: Hamish Watson-Holmes [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Halloween, Kid Fic, M/M, Original Character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-31
Updated: 2011-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-25 03:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ununpentium/pseuds/ununpentium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock, John and Hamish go trick or treating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halloween

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hamish](https://archiveofourown.org/works/329656) by [Valeria2067](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valeria2067/pseuds/Valeria2067). 



> The Hamish Watson-Holmes series is a series of vignettes inspired by Valeria2067's Hamish. They are written as my muse inspires me, and may or may not eventually follow a bigger story arc.

John was sitting at the table pecking away over his latest blog entry when he heard the front door open and the sound of little feet stomping their way up the stairs. John smiled; this was his favourite time of day- 3.30pm when Hamish got back from school. Thankfully Sherlock had remembered to pick him up this time, though John had to remind him by text at varying intervals throughout the day to ensure that he _couldn’t_ forget.

“Daddy!” Hamish ran in to 221b full pelt and launched himself up at John, who braced for the impact of the whirlwind that was six year old Hamish. Sherlock appeared shortly after, obviously having decided not to follow suit and run up the stairs and into John’s arms.

“Hal! How was school? Did Mrs. Hennings pick her nose and flick it again today?” Hamish and John giggled.

“John, don’t encourage him, it’s not proper.” Sherlock sniffed.

“She did! She did I saw her! She picked her nose and flicked it under her desk when we were supposed to be doing our maths.” Hamish broke out into fresh giggles and Sherlock hid a smile. John spotted the painting that Hamish was holding.

“What you got there, Hal?”

“Painting!” Hamish exclaimed.

“Even Daddy could deduce that,” Sherlock smirked at John, who flipped him the V behind Hamish’s back.

“What did you paint?” John enquired, and Hamish proudly presented John with his painting. Sherlock came over to inspect it.

“A bird?” John ventured.

“A bat,” Sherlock whispered.

“Oh, a bat! Lovely. A bat… flying over…”

“A haunted house,” Sherlock whispered again.

“A bat flying over a haunted house! Oh yes I can see the ghosts. Ooh, scary, Hal!” Hamish beamed.

“Can you put it up in the kitchen next to Father’s work?” Sherlock had almost completely taken over the kitchen with his experiments, and had covered as much of the walls and tiles as possible with diagrams and drawings. Most were too high up for Hamish to see properly, though Sherlock would have to relocate most of his experiments to Bart’s in the near future as John was insisting that he would just like a _normal_ kitchen to do _normal_ family things in, thank you very much.

“I’d love to,” Sherlock took the painting carefully from Hamish’s hands, walked into the kitchen and started looking around for the perfect spot to display his son’s latest masterpiece. He shifted a few of his diagrams and stuck Hamish’s paintings in the centre of one of the cabinet doors, in prominent position.

“So why were you painting haunted houses?” John asked.

“Halloween!” came the shout from the kitchen, before Hamish could even open his mouth.

John chuckled and shouted back “Oh, so you _delete_ my birthday, but you remember when Halloween is?” Sherlock peered around the sliding doors, with a guilty expression on his face.

“No, its fine, you _more_ than made it up to me that evening. I just find it strangely amusing that you didn’t know the earth went around the sun but you remembered a nursery rhyme, and evidently Halloween.”

Hamish could sense a long debate coming and so he jumped off of John’s lap and ran over to Sherlock.

“Can I go trick or treating? Please? Pretty please? Can I go?” Sherlock looked down at Hamish and frowned.

“I don’t know, you might be a bit young yet, Hamish.”

“Sherlock, he’s six! I expect you were experimenting with all sorts at six years old.”

“Well, yes, but-“

“Did you go trick or treating?” Hamish interrupted, peering up at Sherlock.

“No,” Sherlock said sadly.

“Why?” Hamish asked, wide eyed.

“My Father was away on business, Mummy was not well and so only Mycroft would have been able to take me. But he said no. Every year.”

“Mycroft looks like he was born in a suit and tie; I can’t imagine him dressed up as a vampire. Now _you_ , on the other hand…” John trailed off, licking his lips.

Hamish grasped the material of Sherlock’s trousers and yanked it.

“So can I? Can I go? Pleeeeease?”

Sherlock looked up at John, who smiled encouragingly.

“Yes, you can go,” Sherlock paused as Hamish started jumping up and down with excitement, “but only if Daddy and I come with you too.”

“Okay!” Hamish shouted excitedly and ran off in the direction of his bedroom, stomping up the stairs yet again.

\---

“No.”

“But why?”

“No, Sherlock.”

“But John, it would be really authentic-“

“No, there is no way on _earth_ bringing back body parts from Bart’s to decorate the flat for Halloween is a good idea.”

Sherlock pouted.

“Not even a few fingers?”

“No!”

\---

It was finally the evening of Halloween and John was helping Hamish with his costume.

“You got the fez, Daddy?”

“Yup, got the fez. And the bow tie.” Hamish squirmed as John buttoned up his shirt and fastened the bow tie.

“Will Father know who I am dressed as?”

John chuckled, “He probably deleted Doctor Who as soon as the programme was over.”

Hamish’s face fell.

“But you look fantastic, Hal, and I’m sure he’ll remember when he sees you,” John hastily backtracked.

“Who are you dressed as?”

“Somebody your Father finds quite scary.” John grinned. “He’s going to _hate_ me. Right, all done. Let’s go find him.”

Hamish ran ahead to find Sherlock, who was putting on the finishing touches to his costume in the bathroom. John arrived in time to see Sherlock putting in his fangs. He was paler than ever, thanks to some white cosmetic powder, with black, sunken eyes and fake blood around his mouth. His hair looked almost black in stark contrast to his ivory skin, and he wore a blood red cape over a fitted black suit. John shifted, licking his lips unconsciously; Sherlock looked breathtaking. Sherlock turned towards John before creasing his face up in annoyance.

“John, really?”

John smirked.

“Yep. Really. I thought it would suitably scare you for Halloween.”

“I don’t find Anderson scary, I find him annoying.” Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. John was wearing a brown wig, accompanied with a blue paper suit and latex gloves.

“Still, this is going to amuse me all night. You have to go trick or treating with me dressed as Anderson!” Sherlock chose to ignore John, and focused on Hamish.

“Hamish, don’t you look smart! Really good, as, uh…”

“Doctor Who,” John whispered.

“Doctor Who! You look just like him, Hamish.” Hamish grinned, grabbed both his parents by the hand and dragged them out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

\---

John was crouching by a brick wall, panting and letting out small giggles, as Hamish sat on Sherlock’s shoulders laughing hysterically.

“You just egged Anderson’s house,” John giggled and Sherlock joined in.

“Yes. I always wanted to do that.”

“And then he opened the door, and you, and, and-“ John broke out into fresh laughter, “you cracked one open onto his head and _ran away_.”

“Why don’t we pick up some tin foil and cover his entire car in it?” Sherlock asked, almost gleefully.

“I think you’ve had too many sweets. The sugar’s gone to your head, Sherlock.” Sherlock simply looked at John with a wicked glint in his eye, held tightly onto Hamish and ran off down the street in the direction of Anderson’s house, cape billowing behind him, with John laughing and running after his crazy husband and their son.


End file.
